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Post by Cayle Pota on Aug 30, 2020 5:27:26 GMT -8
It was only a few months after the initial reconstruction and resettlement of Ensalada Island, but in its intelligent construction, its shipping links, its being one of the only regions in the area with a radio station or a long-range internet broadcasting antenna, it had already brought changes to the local area. By plan or not, the nearby Island chain of Allion (named for the mountain range that formed the islands), and it's primary settled islands, Pico y Gayo had been influenced by it and the small marina of Ensalada regularly saw ships from that island delivering produce to be resold on the main land or to be used by the Ensalada Islanders and more than that it also saw the children of those islands making friends with the children of Ensalada Island, and the culture of the Saiyans of Ensalada Island influencing that of those on Pico y Gayo.
Which is how the Saiyans of Ensalada Island and the Earthlings of Pico y Gayo had come together to celebrate a traditional Saiyan holiday which had not likely been seen in practice for centuries. Karikshuri, the Reaping/Reaper's Festival. Typically held at the end of the yearly harvest, and not in a climate such as the Allion Islands and Ensalada enjoyed where multiple harvests and plantings could occur, it's date had simply been pegged to the planet Earth's own autumn equinox and winter solstice, as the eldest Saiyans alive on Ensalada with memories of the festival recalled it occurring somewhere similar on Planet Plant.
The children had already participated in more Earthling centered activities, such as going from door to door on both Ensalada and the Pico y Gayo islands saying 'trick or treat,' which many Saiyans had to have explained to them, and then being given candies, cookies, and other treats without an issue aside from the time that Cayle had had to stop one of the less adapted Saiyans from giving a seven year old Human a blaster pistol as their treat. The population of all three islands had went out of their way to help with harvesting the crops of the others, with even edge of the Allion chain fishing centered island, Ceviche, coming to help harvest the crops and trade canned fish and other fish products for a portion of the crops.
The Saiyans had introduced to the Pico y Gayo islanders a number of games of chance and skill from their own home world, from 'ducking the scythe', where competitors ducked under a metal pole while dancing and lowered the pole every round, to wood carving. Tara of Clan Taro's suggestion to play traditional saiyan knife dance was however vetoed by Cayle for general play – he instead said an exhibition match could be played for the town and the children by Konja and Tara at the knife dance. Neither of them would be hurt by it, but he didn't want human civilians losing finger tips or chunks.
There had been mask carving and face painting contests, and now that it was over the children of the islands seemed to have formed a circle around Cayle and a few others of the Ensalada Islanders. Their demand, as spoken by Nalta (sometimes Pota, sometimes Cayle, depending on how irritated she was at the other Pota on the island, Jack) the 1st, self-proclaimed princess of the Ensalada Pickles and self-proclaimed little sister of Cayle Pota.
“Cayle! Tell us a story! A story about the last time you were at a festival like this! A story of home!”
While the Earthling children didn't initially pipe in, after Nalta's group of preteen, child, and teenage pickled saiyan buddies, who the Saiyan elders typically referred to as 'The Beans', given their given names were eerily similar to varieties of Earthling vegetables known as 'Beans', let out their, chorus of “Yeah! Yes! Aff! Aff! Aff! Do it!” the earthlings followed in as back up chorus.
Cayle was not sure he was ready to tell stories of home to these kids, to live back up memories of when he was their age or younger; and he was not sure of what story to tell either. Would it be a cop out to tell the story of how his second favorite story from his grandfather's roster of stories? Would he tell a rehashing of Earthling movies he had watched with Carlos Alfonso to try to trick the young Pickles to accept their place on Earth more readily? Or would he do something else.
The icy blue eyed Saiyan's glabella tensed and rolled slightly as he thought about it, before he came to a decision. He wouldn't be the only one to tell the story, Konja would participate as well- perhaps Tara and others could if they wished, but there was a story he needed to tell.
He slapped his knees with the palms of his hands, grinning with finality.
“All of those, both Saiyan and Earthling, who have requested to study martial arts under me and the others. You see how hard I train and how hard I train you. You've heard me say that I plan to push you all to get as far as you can in the World Martial Arts Tournament... do you know why?”
He looked to the children, seeing if he had their attention and if any hands shot up to answer him.
“Battle is apart of our culture. Not just the battle of the field, but that of tournaments as well. When I was your age, the Tuberosum River Valley used to hold a tournament every year on Karikshuri, the day of the Reaper's Festival. It was to entertain the gods and the spirits in thanks for the bounty they had provided us, and it was also to show the strength of our clans to the others. For some, it was a tool to move from the low class status they may have been born into to instead move up into warrior status, for others it was a way to settle disputes between clans over territory, water rights, or marriage proposals. We did some of the same things we do here, but they also held a number of tournaments over the course of the festival week. Pairing up tournament brackets based on age, power level, and experience. Today, I'm going to tell you the story of when I first fought Konja of Clan Korm.”
[1069]
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Post by Konja of Clan Korm on Sept 2, 2020 8:07:48 GMT -8
Karikshuri. The Reaping Festival. Konja exhaled in reminiscence. Back in her village, she would always look forward to that time of the year, when the villages in the valley would come together to celebrate a bountiful harvest. Well... "bountiful" was relative, as she now learned, given the "Exploration Channel" on TV had shown her that Earth's farming machines could produce far more crops in a season than her whole village in ten. The land was far more fertile, and the technology meant that a single farmer could do the work of dozens, maybe hundreds. And even here, with this more humid climate blessed with frequent rain, Konja had found that a single farmer could be far more productive than they used to be. She didn't give up farming entirely. It was in her blood, as much as combat was in any Saiyan's. But as the months went by since she first lost that race against Ty and Achido, she had gotten more creative about figuring out ways to train that fit her farming. For example, fastening multiple weights to her farming tools, in order to replicate their weight on Planet Plant. As it turned out, this world's... "gravity", the force that made things heavy, was only a tenth of her world's. So everything was indeed ten times lighter, now that she thought about it. She found herself sorely off balance the first time she picked up a hoe, expecting the usual weight as she picked it up, only to find it felt as a feather. The weights helped bring it back to something more familiar. But as she had grown up all those years in captivity, she added heavier weights to make them as heavy as weight training implements. At least that way, the farming was a workout at the same time. And with two harvest seasons, she got a lot of that done. Now, they were celebrating the Reaping Festival again. It felt almost like just a year ago. Two, at most. And yet the dates did not lie. It had been centuries since her last Karikshuri. Her last knife dance. She almost opened her mouth to protest when Cayle denied Tara's request to open knife dances to everyone, but stopped herself when he went on to declare it would be done as a demonstration for the children. And Konja was to dance with her. It was a truly nostalgic experience, amid the bonfires, and the masks, and the face paint, and even this Earthling tradition of threatening to trick neighbours if they did not provide them with treats. The illusive motion of the knives, the reenactment of the ancient death duels of folk heroes who fought for personal glory, or vengeance, or whatever great thing they needed... Trading places while convincingly pretending to slash at each other. The masterful clang of blade against blade and the sparks that flew. All lit by the warmth of the orange flame. The last dance concluded, and the two pickles performed the ceremonial bow before leaving the centre of attention. "Second time, was it, Militia?" Tara asked when they left the makeshift stage. Militia. Elite. These nicknames used to be little jabs at each other's station, a rocky start, from when they had first gotten out of their prisons. But overtime, they had become something of terms of respect, instead. "Yes. First was a disaster," Konja recounted, subconsciously glancing at a number of pinkish scars along the underside of her left forearm. "My knees froze from all the attention and I got cut up. My father drilled me for months after that... but the war started before the next harvest."The Elite gave her a friendly punch to the shoulder. "Chin up. You did your old man proud just now. I'm sure Yamoshi brought him along to watch."Konja looked up at the starry sky and smiled, as if no one was watching. She was right, of course. Her father saw that. And it was masterfully done. Not bad for someone who only had a few months training before six years of imprisonment, and centuries of sleep... The children had gathered around Cayle now, begging him for a story. And as he went on into regaling his audience with a brief history of the traditions they were too young to understand at the time they were pickled, Konja's mind again went back. The air was wet, but the sea breeze felt more reminiscent of the Saiyan badlands' dry gusts. The stars were very different here, but she could almost make out the old constellations that were pointed out to her. And it all came flying into her face when he finally revealed what story he was going to tell. Yes, it all started at a time like this. Karikshuri. That one felt like so long ago. She was much smaller, then. And now, it was all coming back. She stepped into the circle. "If you'd like, I can also pitch in with my side of it."[834] Cayle Pota Ty Achido
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Post by Cayle Pota on Aug 9, 2021 18:35:54 GMT -8
Cayle Pota nodded the Affirmative to Konja, though he didn't say a word in the matter. A leader didn't need to, or so they had both been taught. The simple gesture for affirmative in most body languages in the galaxy was enough.
“I will begin with something that many of you may not know. I am an older brother. The eldest of five siblings, and many cousins beyond that. The Clan Pota was one of the first in the Tuberum River Valley, and I had begun martial arts training from the time I could walk. It was a necessary thing for all Saiyans on a Planet Plant, given the natural dangers which existed in our region.”
He cracked his knuckles, looking at the children, but especially the Saiyans. “Who remembers the rock rain training exercise?” to which the beans each raised their hand quickly. “That's a Clan Pota traditional training technique.”
To which one of the children, Navy, raised his hand. “But what does that mean? How does that translate into the tournament you mentioned?”
Cayle grinned. “You remember the fact I mentioned I was the oldest of my generation of the Pota Clan? Well, part of the Karikshuri tournament and the celebration of the reaping festival was the elite's take. Despite my low power level and the fact I was reminded by every elite that I was simply a peasant, I was determined to enter the tournament just the same as any other would of my age and clan, but to push myself as far as I could go. If I could get to a certain place there were bags of grain as a prize for my family. I won my entry into the tournament by saving an Elite's child from an attack of a Thunderclaw.”
“The elites said it was a fluke. My grandfather may have suplexed one of them when they said that, before going on about how he was my grandfather and all sorts of things. I miss gramps.”
[335] [1403]
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Post by Konja of Clan Korm on Aug 12, 2021 7:59:46 GMT -8
"Did you know any of this?" A simple question. Easy enough to answer. The elite was curious, almost as much as the children, but she kept her stoic visage, for the obvious reason that she was elite and adult. And while Konja could remember a lot of what happened in those days - the prime of her childhood no doubt - some details had been blurred by her time incarcerated. Yes, hearing it all again brought back those vivid images. She could remember how he told her these parts with fresh recollection. As fresh as the day it happened. "Yes, it was quite a feat," she answered. "I wasn't there to actually see the rescue. But the elites granting him that entrance? Yes, it was very entertaining to watch." A smirk in her elite compatriot's direction. "I shouldn't be surprised," Tara nodded in thought. "More than his power level when we broke out of captivity, his mind has always been his sharpest blade."The two quietly listened as he went on. Tara mainly out of interest for how things happened next. And Konja, mainly to relive those events through his eyes. Each sentence flowing from his mouth brought back images of where she was on those days. Training, mainly. Preparing. Her father always had her preparing. He was determined to get her ready to lift the clan out of the low class. Never was there a day that he didn't push her to the limit. Every training method picked up in the King's Army, passed down far earlier than one might expect. Of course, she would have her turn soon enough. He'd signaled so when he gave her that acknowledgement. Once he ended the appropriate segment, then she would start. For now, though, a little commentary would help add... spice...? to the tale? "He never was afraid to speak his mind, Gramps. Didn't care what caste you were in." A little chuckle. "You could tell he was proud of his boy. And now that boy is our King." She held up a thumb in approval like she'd seen some earthlings do on TV. [351/1185] Cayle Pota
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Post by Cayle Pota on Aug 20, 2021 0:41:19 GMT -8
Cayle nodded at the words of Konja. He looked to the kids, and to Tara, to the whole crowd, before continuing on. “While my reciting of my entire lineage was archaic by the standards of Saiyans as a whole even in that era, especially those in the badlands which they were from, my grandfather, Potaset Potaset did even more than that was considered an eccentric. Strong but gentle, he was one of the few Saiyans who not only expressed non-aggressive emotions but also would show them openly. The fact that Potaset Potaset had ended the the suplex with a recital of my name and all my siblings and cousin's names, and the fact that he was our grandfather and we his grandchildren, and that the Elites would show us proper respect? That was the sort of thing that I don't think anyone in the valley forgot.”
He nodded. “And no, he didn't care. Said that the castes of the Planet Plant era were an archaic, heretical construct. But that's another story.”
He looked at the children. “So the Elites relented. They allowed me into the tournament, despite my low power level. Some even tried to introduce me to their children. I wasn't interested, I knew that such an introduction would include a quotation of their power level and they would use that as a mental weapon. The phrase that the Earthlings have? Fear is the mind killer? There is a very similar adage within Saiyan culture at the time.”
He then pointed to Konja, “And it's your story too, so why not mention some more of it to the audience?”
[270] [1673]
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Post by Konja of Clan Korm on Aug 20, 2021 8:27:36 GMT -8
That was the signal, and this was the moment. Konja looked around at her audience. Cayle, the little Beans, Tara, everyone... gathered around the bonfire. On the one hand, this really did feel like the Karikshuri festivals on Planet Plant. She enjoyed sitting at the fire with her kin and their guests as they regaled each other with tales of exploits. On the other hand, until a few minutes ago, she never expected she would get a turn. Here it was now. And there was nothing to worry about. This was friends and family. So what if she wasn't all too good at telling stories? This was about passing on time honoured traditions. More importantly, it was one she enjoyed. Her heartbeat intensified as she took a deep breath. A moment to prepare as she raised a fist in an attempt to look eager. "Alright!" Low energy. Stern rather than enthused. Sounded more like she was steeling herself for battle, rather than encouraging a fun time. Though given how well you knew her, it would be very much possible to tell the difference between what she seemed to be doing, and what she was trying to do. "I come from Clan Korm. My kin and I farmed yams for a living. But we all had the Saiyan spirit. My father Yakku earned a place in King Vegeta's army in its early days. He fought hard to help the King unite as many clans as possible under his new kingdom."To help visualise the imagery, Konja performed one of the katas her father taught her, dagger still in hand. "My father fought until he was too hurt to fight. And so they sent him home. But he never stopped trying to raise the clan up from our station. He raised me to finish what he started. As far back as I can remember, I was learning techniques used by the king's army. We rallied the clan, and built a militia for our village..."She finished the kata and smiled. Briefly, all those faces came back to mind. "And of course we fought to get into the tournaments." The smile turned into a chuckle. "I must have had a lot of zenkai back then... Every year I'd get beaten to a pulp at the prelims. Until finally, that same year where Cayle pulled off his special entry, I made it in too. Just by toughing it out."Konja took a stance - the same one she used during that fight, and faced Cayle. "We'd known each other for a while by then. Our villages weren't too far apart, and our kin traded with each other a lot. He'd always show me how good he was with that rock. You couldn't find a better throw in the valley. So you could imagine how excited I was when I saw Gramps 'bargaining' with the elites to let him in!"Honestly she was more entertained by the suplex, but that ultimately passed, replaced by the thrill of getting to fight her brother from the other village over. [511/1696] Cayle Pota
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Post by Cayle Pota on Aug 22, 2021 15:45:02 GMT -8
Cayle nodded to Konja's words, smirking. “Our fathers knew each other as well, sometimes working together, sometimes as rivals, within the same militia group – at least before the incident happened. My father was somewhat his friend, so they knew each other, but I think there was only worse rivalry from it.”
The Saiyan farm boy turned petty king tapped his chin with his thumb. “So Konja and I knew each other, and sometimes she met my siblings too but a lot of the time I was wandering Pota Village on my own, trying to find the next source of meet for my family and training the best way I could when my dad wasn't there.”
He added quickly, “Because in the age before the war, there were many Saiyan polities, and there were also tribes, clans, and just groups of exiles, who banded together as bandits. Some rightly assumed it also occasionally was groups of Tuffles,but many wouldn't believe it at that time.”
He nodded before blowing gently towards the fire and throwing some salt mixture that he had per-prepared for the storytelling part of the night. Suddenly, the warm orange fire of this fire on Earth glowed pale turquoise. Like the moons of Planet Plant / Planet Vegeta when they let off their glow. “As a way to embarrass my grandfather, my clan, and myself, the Elite in charge allowed it, but tried to throw me into the first bracket against a boy two years older than me and Konja, and three feet or more taller. He was from clan Skwash, and he was named of all things S'Ghetti.”
With a bit of a chant from him the fire took up his words, carved them. As the children tried to crowd a bit images of the Elite cackling were visible, as was S'Ghetti Skwash towering over Cayle.
[309] [1982]
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Post by Konja of Clan Korm on Apr 3, 2023 6:36:15 GMT -8
"Of course, just because you were bigger and older didn't mean you were assured the victory," Konja took advantage of the imagery brought about by the salt mixture and accompanying spell. It was wise of Cayle to prepare such an angle. Now, this looked much more like the old Karikshuri campfire gatherings on the Homeworld. It was more comfortable somehow, the light from the twin moons. Only ever full at the same time once every hundred years. And only one full moon every eight. But even so, they were bright enough to compensate for these limitations on most nights. After all, if you only needed one moon's light, and neither was full most of the time, two partially waxing and waning moons would suffice. She never was one for tricks, but she had spent a good few months rehearsing a particular energy technique that some elders taught the interested. Precisely for occasions like this. The farmer stretched her hands out, and moved them in a slow pattern, distributing ki around the fire until enough was embedded in the flames. The required concentration was immense, and that made it impractical for battle, but perfect for entertainment. "Cayle was smarter, and he was taking the fight a lot more seriously. A deadly combination."As she spoke, the burning figures danced, traded blows, and even bolts. While their fiery nature already made them appear quite animate, to see them move in combat was, to say the least, something that brought a smile to her face, even as she furrowed her eyebrows in concentration. "He was also the best rock thrower in the valley. S'Ghetti made the mistake of looking down on "low class" kids like us. It cost him the opportunity to fight for the championship."It was a decisive victory. A total upset for sure. But rules were rules. Konja changed up the pattern, and the imagery changed. "As for me... I'm not really that smart. But my father raised me to be tough." The little burning Konja would get beaten down, get back up, and keep coming at her opponent. The technique was still rough, but she was starting to show that she had training from someone experienced. She would strike openings in her foe's defence, and when there were none, she would move to make new ones. "Let's just say I had to be more straightforward about fighting my way up..."She exhaled, and the image froze, as much as a fire could stay still. This one with a feather in her hair stood with one foot resting on the unconscious opponent she had just slugged it out with. [439/2135]
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